PLATTSBURGH — I drove down Rt. 9, windows down, System of a Down turned up loud, and wondered what to expect from Plattsburgh’s Rockeater Adventure Race, which I had missed the year before.
Does dental insurance cover such damage?
Do champion Rockeaters sacrifice sparkling smiles?
And what about intestinal and bowel complications?
That’s when I spotted three men in diapers running with pacifiers in their mouths in the direction of Plattsburgh City Beach.
Behind them, a giant doughnut seemed to be gaining.
I focused on the road, as I veered to the right and then turned toward the beach.
The sky surrounding the beach was blue, but above it a dark cloud had settled, threatening something more sinister than rain, and as I passed Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, nearly ran over a Smurf and parked near three fairy princesses of both genders, I wondered if I had entered a time vortex.
A time vortex is a sort of temporal wormhole used to travel in time, space and sometimes other universes.
Part of Lincoln, Vermont is a time vortex, according to my sister who says she’s seen fairies and UFOs.
Uncertain on my feet and feeling like it would serve me best to watch all sides of myself simultaneously, I neared the finish line of this inter-galactic race, the track leading to it edged by men, women, Chia pets, elves, Spider Man and several hobbits, screaming and drooling, arms extended to touch an athlete and establish a connection to the chaos.
Amongst shouts of fevered incoherence, a ballerina leapt over a fire pit and zig-zagged toward a mud pit, head first under the net and mud, broke the surface to low crawl as Indiana Jones watched, ready from the sidelines with whip in hand to rescue her if she faltered.
Police and firefighters strolled nearby, eyes narrow and certain.